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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389845">THE FIRST TIME</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraday160/pseuds/faraday160'>faraday160</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Walking Dead (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 19:41:59</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,551</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27389845</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/faraday160/pseuds/faraday160</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>well, their very first sexual encounter after years of denial....</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Daryl Dixon/Jesus</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>33</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>THE FIRST TIME</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>i´m vacationing at home so decided to translate "LA PRIMERA VEZ" into english, <br/>sorry for all the mistakes, they are all mine !! <br/>hope you enjoy it.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>
    <span class="u">THE FIRST TIME</span>
  </strong>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Daryl had noticed it for a while now. Paul sat closer. He looked into his eyes. He spoke less,  smiled at him more.</p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>.</p>
<p>But the little prick didn't say a damn thing. <em>He's giving me time to say no, ins´t he?</em>.</p>
<p>Daryl glanced at the younger man and then looked at the horizon. Chewed on his problems instead of on a damn cigarette. But what he was struggling with was what to do: go ahead or retreat.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>And he didn't say a word. And months passed.</p>
<p>They read. They went out, made their rounds, slept. They scavanged.</p>
<p>Two years went by.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It was noon. A beautiful day. For once a bit of fucking quiet. Sitting at a picnic table in the forest, boots on the bench. It was not cold at all. They had eaten well for once that week. Dog at their feet. Hell, it was even sunny.</p>
<p>Jesus had leaned back, leaning on his palms,face to the sky. Smiling. And Daryl was watching, of course. <em>HOW NOT TO. </em></p>
<p>His mind telling him “go away”. His cock “stay”. More or less.</p>
<p>And Jesus looks at him, of course. Green blue eyes among so much green. And the sun. The fucking sun.</p>
<p>The bastard knows there is something, right? He has to know, because he looks at him like that, and he leans in.</p>
<p><em>Daryl</em>, he says, the voice soft and low. But he can hardly hear anything no more.</p>
<p>The damn prick gets closer. And fear arrives, like the sharp edge of a knife, like iced water. A barely contained arcade. Daryl jumps off of the table. With a cold fist in the stomach. His zipper pressing him.</p>
<p>He leaves. Outside, wherever.</p>
<p>Far.</p>
<p>He finds a funny shaped  stone by the river. He throws it. <em>Dog, take it</em>, he comands. And Dog obbeys. He pulls shit out from under his nails with a twig. He caresses Dog. <em>Good dog</em>, he tells him. He takes the boot off his left foot and shakes it. It had sand. <em>Don't worry, nothing has happened</em>, he tells himself. <em>Come back and tell him “no”, damn it. Be a man. Grow some eggs, Darylina</em>.</p>
<p>What he has is the urge to vomit.</p>
<p>But he comes back.</p>
<p>Jesus is picking up his backpack, putting inside his gun and his mug. The knives on his hips, crossed. He doesn't look at him but notices him. <em>We better pick up soon, Daryl. It gets dark earlier now.</em></p>
<p>Daryl doesn't respond, he walks up behind him. He wants to catch his breath and tell him <em>look, just friends. It's not my shit.</em> Something like that.</p>
<p>But then Jesus turns around and sees it. The disappointment in his eyes. The anger, the shame. The impotence.</p>
<p>The pain. His eyes have turned OPAQUE. With that he can´t cope.</p>
<p><em>Paul…</em> Daryl walks over to him.</p>
<p>Jesus looks at the ground, at the dog, at the bench. Anywhere but him. <em>We should have left an hour ago, the night will catch us out if we don´t ...</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Paul.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>What</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I'm sorry</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>There's nothing to feel sorry about, Daryl. It's okay.</em>
</p>
<p>Daryl bites his lip.</p>
<p>
  <em>It´s allright. I´m a grown up. </em>
</p>
<p>Daryl chews his lip. He has to say something before he bites blood.</p>
<p>
  <em>You're angry.</em>
</p>
<p>The surprise on his face. Denial.</p>
<p><em>What. No. Fuck, why would I be mad, Daryl. I…</em> he snorts. He takes his hands to his eyes, to his forehead. Through his hair. <em>I dont know</em>. Hands on his hips. <em>It´s only  that ...</em> He looks at his nails<em>. I thought …, I dont know, </em>concludes.</p>
<p>Paul Jesús Rovia is speechless. Eyes low, shinny.</p>
<p>Daryl jumps forward and hugs him.</p>
<p>They have never hugged. Paul takes a step back but the table stops him. No one has ever hugged him like this, like, really.</p>
<p>Daryl doesn't let him go, grabs him even tighter. He turns his head and sinks against his neck, breathing in the ascent of the man. <em>It´s ok</em>, he tells him. He strokes his back as if to calm him down.</p>
<p>Paul feels like the canary that has fallen into the paws of a cat, a big black one.</p>
<p><em>Sorry, Daryl</em>, he whispers.</p>
<p><em>Shhh, it's okay</em>. The hug lengthens. <em>It can´t be.</em></p>
<p>Paul tells himself “<em>at least I'll have this”</em>, and he drowns against his neck, his broad chest, his hips. Breathes with him. Breathes him. It takes like twenty seconds, or an eternity.</p>
<p>...................................................................</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then everything rushes.</p>
<p>The hand that caressed his back gently now GOES DOWN to his pants, not so delicately anymore. Daryl squeezes him and pulls Jesus  against him. He has spread his legs and Paul is suddenly trapped between walls of arms and thighs and<em>, oh, god</em>,  that incandescent hardness.</p>
<p>They gasp between pangs of desire. And just then Paul is doing SOME VERY DIRTY SHIT on his neck. He's driving him crazy. They rub like dogs.</p>
<p><em>Fuck</em>, says Daryl. He kisses him on the mouth, one hand on the back of his neck, the other on his ass. He tries and introduces his tongue inside his mouth. Paul moans and licks it avidly. They barely separate to catch breathe. Daryl has never had a boner like this in his life.</p>
<p><em>You drive me crazy</em>, he grunts at him.</p>
<p>
  <em>Me? What about what YOU do to me?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, come here.</em>
</p>
<p>They kiss again. And again, and again… until Paul stops his dirty shit and says.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck me</em>
</p>
<p>Daryl doesn't know if it's a request or an order.</p>
<p><em>OK</em>.</p>
<p>Jesus turns around, his hands on the table, pulling up the straps of his knives and lowering his khaki cargos a little. He looks at him over his shoulder, reaches out and strokes his cock and balls with his right hand. <em>Come here</em>, he tells him.</p>
<p>And there Daryl goes. <em>You have something with which ...</em></p>
<p><em>Here</em>, he says, producing a small pot of vaseline from his jacket inner pocket.</p>
<p>He puts some in his ass and then approaches the hunter and extends some around his dick also, biting him in the neck in the meanwhile. <em>You´re so hot</em>, he tells him. <em>You make me so hard</em>.</p>
<p>Daryl can´t even answer. They kiss some more, Jesus turns again and Dixon tries to take him. Jesus gasps.</p>
<p>At first it doesn´t fit in. Maybe it is too fat. But the little karate kid doesn't seem to be afraid of it. <em>Come on, you push.</em></p>
<p>On and on he pushes and tries, until he finally gets to penetrate the smaller man.Gasping and sweating, he has the almost total certainty that he will not last another half second. But he does. Paul lets all the air get out of his lungs, bends forward, as if defeated. He lets out a snort,  halfway between pain and pleasure. <em>Fuck,</em> he says.</p>
<p>
  <em>I hurt you.</em>
</p>
<p><em>No, just ... wait. </em>Breathes<em>.  You wait a bit.</em></p>
<p><em>Ok</em>.  What else can he do? Waits and breathes too, not to lose it. Two minutes after he notices the other man's flesh relaxing around him. Thanks god, because he was about to burst already.</p>
<p><em>Put more vaseline</em>. He obbeys.</p>
<p><em>Now, little by little, smooth</em>.</p>
<p>He pushes in and out very slowly. Snorts. He wants to hold on. If he's going to fuck a guy, he's fucking going to fuck him right and well.</p>
<p>Jesus is still panting, but now starts to follow the rhythm of Daryl's hips. He has never had a dick like this. Never a man like this. Never such a pleasure.</p>
<p>
  <em>You're good.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Mhhh.</em>
</p>
<p>A few minutes pass. Daryl's powerful arms have Paul wrapped around by the waist, his fingers digging into his pale skin. He is increasing the pace.</p>
<p>
  <em>Is it okay like that? </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Okay. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Keep going. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes. </em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck. Yes.</em>
</p>
<p>Before all this, only four times has Jesus taken it in the ass: the first two he was too young and naive to say no. The other two were with a man who was kind-of-a-boyfriend at he time. The last one was almost okay. Then he just fingered himself very occasionally, just to see if he liked it or not.</p>
<p>And kind of remained uncertain... until this very day. Well, this was  certainly a very different something else.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, Daryl.</em>
</p>
<p>The pace continues to increase albeit slowly. Daryl turns around and leans against the table, allowing Paul to almost sit on his lap. They start a new movement, faster, deeper. Daryl's left hand unzips Paul´s pants, looking for his dick. He finds it, caresses it. His right calloused palm rubs his testicles while his dick continues to fuck into him.</p>
<p><em>Holy fuck,</em> he thinks.<em> Fuck, this is fucking awesome. I've been such an idiot.</em></p>
<p>Paul is leaning on him, turning his head. They kiss on the mouth again. With tongue. They play to suck each other´s. Frantic hips collide. Jesus' penis is so stiff, so ready. He moans, can't wait any longer, he needs to come. He rests his hands on Daryl's thighs as if they were an anchor, something solid to hold onto. He watches his penis appearing and disappearing between his fingers. And that big dick digging a grave of pleasure in his ass. He thinks he screams but he doesn't know. Spasms take him and seem to last an eternity. La petite morte, the french call it. <em>Rightly so, </em>he thinks.<em> I never expected to enjoy it so much. It's this man´s fault, he … ufff</em>, <em>he does DO THINGS to me.  </em></p>
<p>When he recovers enough to stand up properly, turns around and hugs Daryl, who awaits, lost somewhere between confusion and longing. Paul kisses his mouth, his neck. He caresses him with both of his hands.</p>
<p><em>Yes</em>, he tells him, his thumbs massaging  the base of his cock while the rest of his fingers rake over the balls down there. <em>Yes</em>, he repeats. He keeps kissing him, touching him. <em>How you turn me on</em>, he whispers wet in his ear.</p>
<p>Daryl feels like a bull in heat. He could no longer stop even if his life was on it. He embraces Paul and lets himself be touched. He even spreads his legs a little.</p>
<p>Fuck, no one's ever touched him like this. Porn was not like this. Paul is touching him with desire, yeah, but also  with … some … affection. Could be. This is  fucking awesome.</p>
<p>
  <em>You like this.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Mmhh.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>That is a yes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes, damn.</em>
</p>
<p>A chuckle against his neck. His tongue again. Another kiss. His hand massaging his balls, his fist jerking off his cock.</p>
<p>
  <em>I like it too, Daryl.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Mmhh.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>You want to cum?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes, fuck.</em>
</p>
<p>He waits a bit. And continues tormenting him.</p>
<p>Daryl knows he can't take it anymore and this, this is … too fucking much.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, Paul.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>What.</em>
</p>
<p>Snort as an answer.</p>
<p>
  <em>What?</em>
</p>
<p>He grunts. <em>No, I can not…</em></p>
<p><em>Yes you can</em>, his tongue again in his mouth. He then sucks a finger, takes it down again, his cock pleading to burst. Now his left hand is jerking him off good, and the wet finger caresses him… well …, there.</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, Paul.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Ssshhh</em>. He kisses him, but doesn't stop.</p>
<p>He has never felt anything like this. <em>Fuck noo ...</em></p>
<p><em>No?</em> His fingers inmediatly stop ghosting around his… that.</p>
<p>
  <em>No, fuck… god, yeah, keep going!</em>
</p>
<p>Jesus smiles devishly. <em>As you say, sir</em>. And bites his neck again, massaging his penis and his fucking hole.</p>
<p>He comes like an animal, growling, so as not to scream, while jesus holds him still. He has never come like this before. So much, during so many thrusts. Fuck. Both of his knees buckle heavily.</p>
<p>A few minutes pass. They recompose themselves.</p>
<p>They dare not look at each other.</p>
<p>Then they do, they laugh, nervous-</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck, Rovia. I'm going to have bruises on my neck.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Daryl dixon with hickeys on his neck, there´ll be some dirty talk. </em>
</p>
<p>They laugh.</p>
<p>
  <em>I´ll have them too. </em>
</p>
<p><em>Let me see.</em> Jesus comes closer, stretches his head. Daryl holds his chin up with one hand and his shoulder with the other, gently.</p>
<p><em>Well yes</em>, he tells him. <em>Fuck, sorry</em>.</p>
<p><em>I'm sure they also will appear  on my sides, look.</em> He lifts his shirt up for Daryl to see. And there they are all his fingers marked in red. His body so thin but wiry. He feels the desire again, reaches down and licks each mark. He kisses every mark. Another nervous giggle escapes from Paul´s mouth. They hug. They rest.</p>
<p>Later on they wash themselves with a cloth dumped in the river´s water.</p>
<p>Then they leave. It is already dark when they arrive to their shelter. They eat some bread and cheese for dinner. Daryl does the first watch. It is getting fucking cold for this time of the year, (wasn´t ir suposed to be early october?). He sees Paul come back from the river, drenched, shivering, his hair dripping.</p>
<p>
  <em>But what are you doing. You want to catch a pneumonia or what.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>I just went to take a proper bath.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Fuck Paul, it's cold for that. You want to get sick or what.</em>
</p>
<p>Jesus looks at him with a strange look. Approaches him. The height difference between them doesn´t bother him in the slightest. He looks into his eyes deeply, sharply.</p>
<p>
  <em>Damn, Dixon, I let you fuck me once, and you already start telling me what to do? This, whatever it is, doesn´t work like that. I don't need a mother, thank you.</em>
</p>
<p>They hold their gaze.</p>
<p><em>Whatever,</em> says Daryl, lowering his eyes first.</p>
<p>He is stunned. He can't get it out of his head. Spends the night awake reliving those words again and again. Daryl has never seen that side of Paul. That cold and dark side. Was it there before, or was it because of what had happened? <em>Fuck me if I know</em>, he thinks.</p>
<p>………………………………….</p>
<p>…………………………………..</p>
<p> </p>
<p>At breakfast they are both silent.</p>
<p>
  <em>Forgive me, Daryl.</em>
</p>
<p>He has said it almost in a whisper, but the older man has heard it. He looks at him, and waits for him to continue talking. Jesus lowers his head, nervous.</p>
<p>
  <em>Sorry, Daryl, I don't know why I spoke to you like that yesterday.</em>
</p>
<p>Silence. Daryl looks at him and Paul looks at his hands, his fingers, his boots, the knife. He snorts.</p>
<p>
  <em>I really don't know why I told you that.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>It´s fine.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Sorry, i shouldn´t have… can  you forgive me?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes.</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yes?</em>
</p>
<p>
  <em>Yep.</em>
</p>
<p>Daryl hesitates, leans on to take Paul´s hand in his, and strokes it gently with his thumb.</p>
<p>Ok. The younger man stands up and combs his hair with the help of his fingers into a low ponytail. He looks at Daryl again. <em>How far do we need to go today.</em></p>
<p>Daryl thinks for a moment. <em>We try and see if we can we can make it to the train station. The house is safe. We spend the night there and tomorrow could reach the main grain store.</em></p>
<p>
  <em>Good.</em>
</p>
<p><em>Let's go, r</em>esumes the hunter, standing up. He looks at him. They aproach and hug tenderly. Paul is a bit startled. “<em>I'm not the only one with socializing and confidence issues”</em>, Daryl thinks, but decides not to coment. He gently kisses his hair instead.</p>
<p>
  <em>Yeah, come on.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
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